


in youth we learn, in age we understand

by celestial_horizon



Series: responsibilities [1]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dead Tony Stark, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Nick Fury Knows All, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Poor Peter Parker, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Teen Angst, he can’t catch a break, i’m sorry class
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 06:56:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15625191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestial_horizon/pseuds/celestial_horizon
Summary: “Kid, you’ve had a rough day,” Nick’s soft tone was probably the opposite of the reaction Peter expected to get after an outburst like that. The teenager opened his mouth to retort again, but Nick simply held up a hand and it shut immediately. “When you have one, just do what I do. Ask yourself: ‘Is anybody’s life better because of what I did today?’ If the answer's yes, then quit your whining,” Peter closed his eyes and hung his head, letting out a shaky and exhausted breath. “If not, well then, do better tomorrow.”





	in youth we learn, in age we understand

**Author's Note:**

> Hello ! 
> 
> Since Samuel L. Jackson was recently confirmed for Far From Home I’ve just been itching to write something because I cannot wait to see this duo. Plus, I hit quite the block for my other fics (Invasion, and the one I’m writing for the IronDad Big Bang) so this will hopefully help break it. 
> 
> It’s currently 2 am and I wrote this spur of the moment so it is un-beta’d. I apologize in advanced for any mistakes I may have missed! 
> 
> Enjoy :)

“Director Fury, can I get you more wine?”

 

Nick Fury removed the wine glass from his parted lips, swallowing the remaining alcohol before setting it down on the left hand side of the table. The white cloth delicately draped around the circular surface beared resemblance to the moon that shone above Queens on the clear Thursday night. It was the first time Nick got the pleasure to experience street side dining at this particular restaurant, which was his favorite in all of New York, maybe even the entire East Coast. Not too fancy, not too unadorned.

 

“No, this is fine,” he responded, leaning back in his chair as the bittersweet aftertaste of white wine settled on his tongue. “Please tell the kitchen that the General Tso’s is fantastic.”

 

The waiter smiled, a hint of relief and pride flashing across his face before he went back to his professional façade. The man nodded and walked off to attend to a separate table, leaving Fury to enjoy his meal in silence.

 

Five minutes into some perfectly seasoned chicken and a few more sips of wine, his wrist watch faintly beeped in alarm. Fury tapped his earpiece to patch an agent through, sighing heavily at the fact that he could never seem to get a night out. Of course, what should he expect? Being the director of a government organization dealing primarily with international security threats and otherwise wasn’t the kind of job that offered down time.

 

“ _One Eyed Eagle_ ,” Fury straightened at the mention of his code name. “ _We are detecting a recurring energy flux in your immediate area._ ”

 

“Send it to me.” Data flashed across the screen, giving him the information on whatever mutant or mutate was causing trouble or suspicion. The familiar marks and statistics told him everything he needed to know. The director breathed another sigh, something of disappointment, concern, and curiosity swirling inside of him. A bit of relief, as well, because maybe he would get to finish his Chinese outing after all.

 

“ _Requesting authorization to prepare a takedown and cleanup crew_.”

 

“No, I got this one.”

 

“ _But sir, procedure—_ “

 

“Soldier?” Nick spoke in a clipped manner, stern and serious as one could be.

 

“ _Yes, sir_ ,” the man on the other end was quick to backtrack, tone penitent. “ _Sorry, sir._ ”

 

The director stood from his chair, scanning the street around him. His eyes caught sight of an alley across the way from which the energy surges were originating from, and so he set out to deal with it. He walked up to the waiter from before and handed him the money to pay for his meal, requesting the man to look after his food and table until he got back before turning on his heel towards the other side of the street.

 

Nick pushed open the loose and rusty chain link gate, carefully avoiding the stray cat that jumped out from the shadows and disappeared into the street behind him.

 

A few steps into the dark and filthy alley, the director came to a halt. He swiped a couple of times on the surface of his wristwatch to activate a mechanism that’d surely get that damn stubborn teenager to reveal himself, whether he wanted to or not.

 

A quick, bright yellow flash and harsh ringing filled the space around him. A gasp could be heard, followed by a thin, shadowy form plummeting from the darkest corner of the alley and into the open dumpster below. A few stray pieces of trash and cardboard were flung from the garbage on impact that landed just short of Nick’s sable shoes.

 

No longer than a couple seconds passed before a hand emerged from the bin, followed by the face of who could only be Peter Parker.

 

“Why are you following me, Peter?”

 

“ _Ow_ ,” he exclaimed, limbs shaking as he slowly hauled himself out of the dumpster. “ _Ugh_ , what did you just _do_ to me?”

 

“It’s a temporary genetic paralysis. It’s already wearing off,” he explained. The older man took in the younger man’s appearance. His soaked, brown curls were mostly hidden beneath a navy blue hoodie whose wetness matched his hair. Said hoodie was covered in and grime as was his face, jeans, and shoes. The teenager’s cheek had a barely healed cut to match the one just above his eyebrow. Whatever fight he got in must’ve happened not too long before this, because dried, crusted blood ran down his head from both lacerations. “Well,” he continued, “You look and smell vaguely like crap-- what happened to you?”

 

Peter continued to ignore the man’s questions, instead focusing on removing himself from the ant infested dumpster. His movements were sluggish and strained thanks to the device Fury used against him, and once he finally got a second leg over the wall of the bin the teen collapsed into a heap on the ground.

 

“Where’s your little Spider-Man costume?” Nick decided to ask a more straightforward question, hoping the reference to his alter-ego would help elicit a response from him.

 

“I-- I lost it,” the young hero confessed as he stood on trembling legs and leaned against the mucky exterior of the dumpster for support.

 

“You _lost it?_ ” He repeated, but decidedly gave up on that topic. There was undoubtedly some huge backstory leading up to that single event, and that isn’t why Nick was here. “How long have you been following me?”

 

Peter stared up at the director, hesitating. “Since you left your— I don’t know what you call it— your headquarters,” he admitted, rubbing at a spot beneath his nose all while avoiding eye contact. Nick was astounded nothing had been detected earlier by neither him nor his S.H.I.E.L.D agents who constantly monitored everything he was doing. He made a mental note to up the security measures after this conversation.

 

“You’ve been following the leader of the top espionage organization on the entire planet for over an hour?”

 

“Yeah…” Peter trailed off, slacking against the side of the garbage bin and choosing to kneel on one leg as opposed to standing.

 

A smirk crept onto Fury’s face, “Not bad.”

 

Peter finally met the man’s eyes, not even a hint of fulfillment, awe, or happiness at the compliment flashing across his face. This only concerned Nick further. He’d heard and even seen it himself a few times of how jubilant and excitable the young hero was around any authoritative figure. He was constantly trying to prove his worth to anybody and everybody, thriving off of every compliment no matter how minimal. But here he was, troubled and stern expression remaining plastered on his face even after one of the most difficult-to-impress men in the world just praised him.

 

The pair stood without saying anything for a few moments, eyes never leaving each other before nick broke the silence. “What do you want, Peter?”

 

“I want you to take my powers away,” the words struck worry and unease into Nick. “I don’t _want_ them. I don’t want to be Spider-Man and I don’t want my powers,” Now he was getting to his feet quickly, strength filling him at a more rapid rate as his bottled up emotions began to emerge. The teen pointed an accusing finger at Fury. “And I know you can do it! I know you can inject me with something, or-- or-- or _spray_ me with something and I can go back to a normal life!”

 

Nick let the young hero continue his rant, hands clasped behind his back as he eyed the unstable teenager. Whatever happened had to have been bad. Stark revealed Peter’s motivation behind becoming a superhero and deciding to fight crime. Whatever happened to stop the kid from believing in _that_? He couldn’t imagine.

 

“I don’t want to do this anymore! I want my life back to what it was before the spider bit me! I want this to _stop_!” He was shouting now, voice wavering and cracking with each syllable. Angry tears began to well in his eyes and he squeezed them shut in a clear attempt to keep them at bay.

 

Nick’s next statement was firm and final: “No.”

 

Peter’s eyes snapped back open, confusion and anger practically leaking out of him at the seams. “I’m an _illegal genetic mutation_. You-- You said it yourself!” Nick’s mind flashed back to the conversation they had a couple of months ago. The man had visited Peter at his school to discuss the terms of his vigilantism and future as a superhero. Some hard truths were spoken, but the teenager clearly took it the wrong way. “ _I don’t want this!_ ” The director moved his hand to cross them over his chest, favoring his left leg and slightly tilting his head to the side. The total change in body language stemmed from the deep concern and sense of responsibility he felt for this kid. After Tony died, the teen was left without a mentor. He was suddenly thrust into a healing world with no guidance on where to go, how to start, or what to do going forward. Peter had his own trauma to deal with, his own family to look after. Sometimes it got to much and something pushed you over the edge. Nick had been there more times than he’d like to admit, but in order to help, he needed to understand what was going on.

 

“What happened, Peter?“ 

 

“Listen to me--“

 

“What _happened_ , Peter?”

 

“You have to--“

 

“Peter,” Nick took a step closer. “ _What happened?_ ”

 

“There was a fire,” he began after a beat, looking down at his twiddling thumbs. “A small apartment building on 103rd. I didn’t even have my costume but I just-- I just couldn’t stand there and let people die,” Nick hummed in response, nodding before letting him continue. “It was spreading quickly. Too quickly,” he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to control to overflow of emotions he must have been struggling to keep in. “The firefighters couldn't contain it and there were just _too many people_ and I tried and tried and _tried_ to get there fast enough, to swing harder and higher and to carry as many people as I possibly could but it wasn’t enough. It’s _never enough._ ” Peter pulled his hoodie down on his head, further obscuring his features. He turned around to face the wall as if his next words were too shameful to say to Nick’s face. “The building collapsed. Nine people were still inside,” he paused, the next sentence coming out choked, caked with shame and guilt and regret. “Three of them were children, no older than thirteen.”

 

Nick felt a pang of empathy and sorrow. Not for the people who’d perished in the fire— no, he’s seen enough of those to know you can’t save everybody and definitely can’t let that kind of loss affect you— but for this kid who didn’t realize that yet. This kid who’s too good for this world. This kid who has gone through enough loss and pain for fifty lifetimes. This damned _kid_ who has a too-big heart and a guilt complex larger than Tony Stark’s, or anybody he’s met for that matter.

 

“Kid,” he began, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You can’t save everyone. You’re not always going to be enough and you can always try harder. But that’s _okay_. It’s a part of life. In this business especially.”

 

Peter didn’t turn around nor did he make any attempts to remove Nick’s hand from his shoulder. “If you’re going to be a superhero, you need to learn that.”

 

This ignited the spark in Peter, turning it into a raging flame of frustration and affliction. He turned sharply, shoving the hand off of his shoulder in one swift movement which jostled the hood from its place around his head. Ash and soot coated his damp hair and now that his face was in the light, Nick could clearly see the dark bags under his eyes and the sheer paleness of his skin. The look in Peter’s eyes was unlike anything he’d expected from the happy-go-lucky kid that (literally) bounced off the walls of the Avengers compound and spent hours in labs and workshops with Tony or Bruce or Princess a Shuri all the way in Wakanda.

 

“Are you even listening to me!? I _killed_ people. I killed _children_. It’s my fault they’re dead! I want you to do the right thing and--“

 

“I heard you loud and clear, son.”

 

“ _I DON’T WANT THIS!_ ” Peter bellowed, his efforts to keep from crying proving fruitless as two rebel tears rolled down his cheek. They streaked a line through a patch of ash below his eye and he wiped at them furiously, smudging the inky black mess over his healing cut.

 

“Kid, you’ve had a rough day,” Nick’s soft tone was probably the opposite of the reaction Peter expected to get after an outburst like that. The teenager opened his mouth to retort again, but Nick simply held up a hand and it shut immediately. “When you have one, just do what I do. Ask yourself: ‘Is anybody’s life better because of what I did today?’ If the answer's yes, then quit your whining,” Peter closed his eyes and hung his head, letting out a shaky and exhausted breath. “If not, well then, do better tomorrow.”

 

Peter turned his head to the director again, expression crumpling. “Three kids are dead because _I_ fucked up. Nine people are gone from this world. Their friends will never talk to them again, their family will never get to say how much they love them,” his voice broke for what had to be the dozenth time that night. “I think I‘ve earned the right to whine.”

 

Nick sighed, because he knew Peter was right. He’s still a kid with his whole future ahead of him. He lost almost everybody important to him in his life and just went through what was probably one of the most traumatic experiences of his life. Peter was the only person who felt himself crumble away and one of the very few people who actually remembered what it was like inside the Soul Word. Colonel Rhodes kept Fury informed on the kid’s situation every now and then, hence why he knew all this. It wasn’t so much to kept track on whether or not he was a threat to national security because he knew damn well that was impossible, but, again, Nick felt a responsibility to watch over the kid. It was the least he could do for Tony, after everything that man had done for the director in their short time of knowing each other.

 

“Maybe you’re right,” Nick continued. Peter perked up at this, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Enjoy your youth. Enjoy your innocence. There will be plenty opportunities for you in the future, and until then you have room to grow,” Nick sighed, trying to find the right words to say. He was never good with teenagers. “Go ahead. Mope around. But there are a hell of a lot more people out there who will need your help when you’re holed up in your house with no powers, no way to help them even if you wanted to.

 

Looking at you today? Like this? Your head’s going to pop off your body before you hit prom,” Peter leaned his back against the brick wall, looking up to the sky. “You don’t wanna be Spider-Man anymore? Fine. But what else are you going to do? Work at Burger King?” Nick chuckled, shaking his head. “I have. Trust me, you don’t want to.”

 

If Peter had the desire to argue back again, he didn’t show it. The poor kid was a complete mess both inside and out. He had powers and responsibilities no sixteen-year-old should have to deal with at all. “Take some time off. Just because you’re Spider-Man doesn’t mean you have to be Spider-Man every single second of every single day. And I know you miss Tony,” Peter flinched at the name, clenching his jaw. By the way his eyes turned wet and red, Nick got a feeling the stars weren’t the only reason he was intent on looking up. “But overworking yourself? Bottling up all this self-hatred, guilt, anger, _whatever_. It isn’t what he would have wanted you to do. He made that mistake and it cost him.”

 

Peter met Fury’s eye once again, expression unreadable. “And it’s not your fault that a building caught in fire or the structure was too weak to handle the heat for long enough. But you need to _talk_ to someone. Chill. Let loose,” Nick stepped even closer and Peter took a sudden interest in his damaged shoes. “I’m serious, kid. Go home. Shower. Watch some of those crap videos with the-- the booty shaking. Be a kid. _Relax!_ ”

 

Peter sighed, the fire fueled by grief and anger finally burnt out. “I’m-- I’m sorry for… totally freaking out like that. I didn’t mean--“

 

“Yes, you did. And it’s okay,” he replied, taking a step back towards the entrance of the alleyway. “I understand what you’re going through. You’re so angry, you don’t even know what to be angry about. It’s called being a teenager.”

 

Nick held out his hand towards Peter. This time, he didn’t hesitate to grasp the other man’s hand and give it a firm shake. Fury nodded, knowing the kid would be alright. He gets why Tony took such a liking to him, he always did. But now, Nick sees it’s not only because of his intellect, his skills, or his alter-ego. It’s because Stark saw _himself_ in this kid.

 

Tony always made it out alright in the end. Fury knows this kid will, too.

 

“It’s all right. But the next time you want to talk to me,” the director called over his shoulder as he exited the alley, “Make an appointment. Or I’ll shoot you.”

 

Nick sauntered back towards his table where his food remained untouched, just the way he had left it. The moon was now higher in the sky, and as the tangy taste of General Tso’s chicken filled his mouth again he watched a figure leap from the alley, disappearing into the New York skyline.

 

“Is everything alright, Director Fury?” The waiter asked, adding another handkerchief to the pile on the table.

 

“Maybe not now,” he said, earning a look of worry from the worker. “But eventually”

**Author's Note:**

> This whole fic was heavily based off of Ultimate Spider-Man Issue #39. If you’re interested in reading comics, that series is the best place to start. 
> 
> If you liked this in any way, please please PLEASE leave a comment! I thrive off of them and even the tiniest compliment seriously makes my whole day. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed !! :)


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